To Change an Era
by Miss of the Manor
Summary: With the Order decimated, Hermione Granger is desperate to end the war against Voldemort. Just as all hope was lost, Fawkes arrived with Dumbledore's last notes. In an effort to save what is left of the magical world, Hermione undertakes a suicide mission that sends her twenty years into the past. With the help of a certain set of red-headed twins, will she be able to fix time?


Hermione was frantically dashing through the Department of Mysteries, a slight limp in her step, trying with all her might to escape the Death Eaters that were flooding the ministry. It was nearly three months after Harry had fallen at the Battle of Hogwarts, and three months since Voldemort issued the order to kill all remaining Order members. Hermione, for rather obvious reasons, was at the very top of that list.

The Order had put up a valiant fight, but Voldemort was simply too strong. Only a few of the Order remained. Those few being: Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall, Charlie Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and George Weasley. They were a ragtag bunch, fuelled by what little of Dumbledore's notes they could salvage.

Those notes are what brought Hermione to the Ministry in the first place. Had Fawkes not appeared in the midst of the planning meeting weeks ago, bearing the deceased headmaster's final request, the order never would have attempted to break into the heavily guarded building.

A bright purple spell whizzed past the running girl, striking the wall in front of her. She rounded the corner and continued her desperate sprint through the hodgepodge, ever-changing, corridors of the Department of Mysteries.

She, along with the rest of the Order, was looking for a small device Dumbledore had described in his notes. A mirror. A handheld, golden mirror. Dumbledore said it had the power to defeat Voldemort if it were placed in the right hands.

Hermione pumped her legs harder, trying to outrun her assailant, who was still slinging curses in her direction. In the distance, Hermione spotted a heavy wooden door. Risking a glance behind her, Hermione fired a bombarda at the ground in front of the Death Eater, causing a cascade of stone to shatter across the corridor.

The man cursed loudly as he skid to a halt to avoid falling down to the floor below. Hermione let out a ghost of a smirk and threw open the door, slamming it closed behind her, then warded it. Hopefully, it would keep out any Death Eaters while she searched the room for the mirror.

Why it was so important and powerful, Hermione didn't really know. She only knew that the Order didn't have many options beyond finding this mirror. There were only seven of them left, after all.

Hermione turned around to survey the room. It held little adornment and was altogether rather dingy and grimey. Hermione scrunched her nose in distaste. She wasn't fond of dirt. Sitting in the centre of the room was a pedestal that, unlike the rest of the dull room, was ornate and sparkling despite the questionable lighting that purveyed the rest of the room. Laying atop it was a tarnished golden hand-mirror. It was just as ornate as the pedestal that held it, though just as dusty as the room.

Excitement and adrenaline filled Hermione's veins. It was the mirror from Dumbledore's notes.

Hermione picked it up to inspect it further. The glass of the mirror was so dirty, Hermione couldn't see her reflection, and as she discovered a moment later, cleaning charms wouldn't clear the surface either. Pushing that to the back of her mind, she began to think of ways to escape the room, then later the Ministry. She had to get the device out of there, and quickly. Unfortunately, the bookworm was drawing blanks for both.

A heavy pounding on the door let her know the Death Eater had finally caught up to her and was trying to break in. She cursed and pointed her wand at the ready. The hasty wards she had put up were crumbling in the face of the magic of her attacker.

A second later, the Death Eater, Dolohov, burst through the door, a maniacal grin plastered on his now maskless face.

"Ironic seeing you here again," he cackled pointing his wand at her.

Hermione shuddered minutely but kept her wand steady.

"Still have the little gift I gave you?" he asked, referring to the still puckered scar that ran the length of her back.

Hermione had quite enough of him, and sent a stunner at him, which he blocked.

"Little darling, that simply won't work," he said mockingly.

Hermione knew he was right but still hesitated to use anything darker than expelliarmus.

Dolohov glanced at the hand that was holding the mirror. "What have you got there?"

She shielded the mirror behind her back. He could not get ahold of it under any circumstance. Hermione may not know what the mirror did, but she did feel the power radiating from it. If Voldemort got his hands on it there would be no chance of winning.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione shot a more powerful, albeit darker, curse at the man. He was ready for it and blocked again, sending a dull blue spell at her. She slid aside and countered with a bright yellow hex. He blocked and sent a shower of sparkes at her, immediately followed by a blue charm that threw her against the wall. All the breath flew out of her but she got back up and continued fighting.

After another few minutes of intense battling, another two Death Eaters appeared. She managed to take them out, but their arrival was enough for Dolohov to overpower Hermione. She fell to the ground still clutching the mirror and her wand. He sent her a malicious grin and rose his wand.

"Crucio," he uttered.

Hermione screamed. She truly hated this curse. Although, compared to Bellatrix, his seemed rather tame. He tortured her for Merlin only knows how long, but when he finally finished, Hermione would barely breathe and was shaking.

"The Dark Lord will be so pleased when I deliver you to him. He has been waiting to kill you personally."

In a twisted sort of way, Hermione was pleased that she was enough of a pain the arse that Voldemort wanted to kill her personally, but her fear was a far more powerful force and overtook any pride that she felt.

Dolohov rose his wand at her one more time and shot a spell at her that would deliver her to Voldemort's dungeons. In a final effort to save herself, Hermione used the mirror to deflect the spell.

Time seemed to slow down, and Hermione could barely keep her eyes open. Dolohov began flickering in and out of view, and she began to feel nauseous. A faint whispering filled her ears, but she couldn't make out what the voice was saying.

Eventually, everything came to a stop and Hermione didn't feel nauseous anymore, though she was still twitching from Cruciatus she endured earlier. Dolohov and the other two Death Eaters weren't in the room anymore, leaving Hermione alone. She put the mirror in her beaded bag, so nothing else could happen to it.

'_How peculiar,' _Hermione thought.

She dragged her body to the wall and with its help, hauled herself to her feet. When she put weight on her left foot, she hissed in protest. Glancing down, she saw her ankle jutting out at an awkward angle, and the skin surrounding it swelling at an alarming pace.

She cast a quick _episkey_ and limped to the door. Although the healing spell seemed to help, the break was too extreme for it to heal all the way. Warily, Hermione opened the door and glanced for any Death Eaters. She still had to get out of the Ministry and back to the safe house.

Luckily the corridor was empty, so Hermione hobbled out of the room uncertainly. She struggled through the maze of passageways for a while longer, hoping to find an exit and praying to Merlin that she wouldn't run into any Death Eaters.

It seemed Merlin was listening, as Hermione didn't run into anyone, and got out of the Department of Mysteries and all the way to the lift without gaining any new injuries. All she had to do now was get to the Atrium without getting caught. The elevator creaked its way up the shaft, but when it slowed down to make a stop Hermione panicked.

_Someone was going to get on._

Hermione disillusioned herself just before the door opened. In walked two men, and as their robes stated- they were Aurors.

She cursed internally. They must have been informed there was a breach in the Department of Mysteries. They were probably looking for her.

"It's strange- that Department is the most secure in the whole Ministry. How could someone get in undetected, but then be caught on the way back out?" one of them with dark auburn hair questioned.

"It doesn't make sense," another, with the same colour of hair, agreed.

Hermione held her breath. They _were _looking for her.

Unbeknownst to the invisible girl, a drop of blood was slowly trickling down her face, which, when it reached her chin, fell. Another followed, and another, and another. A small pool of blood was starting to gather and stain the flooring in front of her.

The lift was still making its way up to the ground floor, and just as Hermione took notice of the blood, one of the Aurors noticed it too. He had his wand out faster than Hermione could react and stunned her. She was disillusioned and met two very serious faces.

"D'ya reckon it's her?" one of the men spoke.

"Dunno, we ought to take her in though. She seems rather beat up," the other replied.

They were twins, Hermione noticed. Both had dark auburn hair and hazel eyes. She gulped. They were taking her to Voldemort.

When they charmed the elevator to go back down though, Hermione was confused. If they wanted to take her to Voldemort they would have spelled her there, or at the very least taken her to the Atrium and apparated. When the doors opened again, one of the twins levitated her through the department and to some holding cells.

They left her there and returned shortly with another, oddly familiar, man.

"-brought her here," one of the redheads finished.

"You still have her stunned?" the new man asked.

"Yes, sir," the twins replied in unison.

The man reversed the curse and stared at her expectantly. "Who are you?"

Hermione, despite being befuddled as to why she hadn't been taken to Voldemort, refused to speak.

"It'd be best to speak now, or I'll have to force it from you," he growled.

She glared at him. "I'm sure you know who I am."

It was true. She was a well-known muggleborn. They _should _know who she is.

"If I knew, we wouldn't be having this conversation," came his grizzled voice.

The bookworm stayed silent, staring at the man. '_Why did he seem so familiar?'_

"Girl, if you don't speak…" he trailed of angrily.

The revelation struck Hermione like lighting, filling her with a sense of immense dread.

"Oh my Merlin," Hermione breathed. "This cannot be happening. It is _impossible_."

"What's impossible girl? Speak!" he demanded.

She didn't answer him and instead thought back to Dumbledore's notes. '_It has the power to defeat Voldemort if placed in the right hands.'_

"Girl!" The man growled one more time.

Her eyes snapped up to look at his. "I'm afraid, _Moody_, I cannot tell you."

He looked outraged, then suspicious. "How do you know my name?"

"You are a famous Auror, are you not?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hardly," he snapped.

"Ah. I suppose that hasn't happened yet, you still have your eye, after all," Hermione muttered to herself.

"What about my eye?" he demanded, suspiciously.

Making a decision with herself, Hermione said, "Your eye. You haven't lost it yet."

"Did you two ever look her over for injuries?"

"No sir," one replied.

He levelled his gaze back at her, his eyes glinting. "Have you hit your head missy?"

"Actually, yes. But I assure you, I am not mad."

He snorted.

Hermione shrugged, knowing that he wasn't going to believe her. Then again, he likely wouldn't believe the truth either.

For some reason or another, he asked, "What are you?"

She took a breath and in the best impression of Trelawney, she said, "I'm a… seer," she replied. It was a good enough cover story until Dumbledore could get there. Even if she knew and trusted Moody, she didn't recognize the other two and wouldn't jeopardize her position. "I must speak with Dumbledore."

"Even if you are a seer, you are in no position to make demands. Why were you in the Department of Mysteries?" Moody growled.

"You must understand, I cannot say!" Hermione exclaimed.

Moody looked like he was about to yell at the girl again, but another voice interrupted him before he could ayin anything more.

"Alastor, that is enough. The poor girl is hurt, leave her be," the doting voice of Dumbledore said. A moment later the aforementioned man appeared in front of her cell.

"Absolutely not," Alastor spit. "She broke into the Department of Mysteries. That is a crime punishable by time in Azkaban."

"That is only if she has taken something. Did the Department of Mysteries say anything about that?" the old man questioned.

"No," Moody grumbled.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he looked at Hermione. "Well, Miss…"

"I won't reveal my name," was Hermione's stout reply.

Dumbledore smiled at her. "Alright, then Miss, can you please tell us what you were doing in the Department of Mysteries?"

"I cannot," she said eyeing the two red-headed twins.

"She's impossible!" Middy growled. "Prewetts, go fetch me a vial of veritaserum. If she won't speak, I will make her."

The twins ran off, leaving Hermione to stare at the spot they were standing only a second ago.

"Prewett?" Hermione asked.

"You have heard of them," Dumbledore stated.

Hermione nodded her head in affirmation. "I have."

"Yet, they do not know you?" The old wizard continued.

"They don't," Hermione confirmed.

"Fascinating," he commented. "I do believe," he said after a moment, "you need to let her go, Alastor."

"No."

"Alastor, Please," Dumbledore pled.

The grizzled Auror sighed, "Only because it is you Dumbledore. But if she stirs up trouble again, I won't hold back."

The professor smiled, "I wouldn't expect you to."

Moody unlocked the cell and Hermione limped out.

"Please," Dumbledore said, "Allow me to take you to Hogwarts. We can take care of your injuries there."

Hermione nodded and followed the man to the Atrium and allowed him to apparate her to the school and escort her to the Hospital Wing.

There, she was fussed over by Madame Pomfrey, who was absolutely horrified to see the extent of Hermione's injuries.

"Really Albus, it looks like she has been through a war!" the matron hissed when she was out of Hermione's earshot.

He nodded gravely. "I believe she was."

"Albus, don't say things like that."

"I'm afraid that is the truth."

Understanding dawned on the healer's face and she gasped, "You cannot possibly be insinuating _that_. It's _impossible_."

"No," Albus disagreed, "It's not. That young lady is proof enough."

Madame Pomfrey only shook her head and walked into her office, leaving Hermione and the Headmaster alone.

The wizard conjured a comfortable chair and sat down to start asking Hermione questions.

"Would you mind telling me your name, dear?" he asked.

She complied. "Hermione Granger."

Dumbledore smiled, "And would I be correct to assume you are from another time?"

Hermione nodded in relief. "Yes, 1998, to be specific."

His eyebrows rose. "How interesting. You have made quite the journey. It is now June 21, 1978."

"I figured I was in the late 70's. You look a little younger. Besides that, I have already met… certain people."

"Smart girl," He remarked, "You don't seem too alarmed for someone who has been displaced in time. Why is that?"

She shrugged. "I should be more shocked than I am, considering the circumstances that led to me being here. Though, I suppose that is also why I'm not more alarmed now."

A pause followed her remark, letting both her and the professor absorb her situation.

"Is it that dire?" Dumbledore asked.

Hermione nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so."

The old headmaster's eyes lost their signature twinkle.

"I assume you were in the order in your time?" he asked after a moment.

She nodded in affirmation. "That's correct. I was in what little was left of it."

"I shall call a meeting tomorrow, then. You can explain everything there."

"Of course," she complied. "Though not my actual story, I trust."

He patted her clasped hands. "Correct. I shall let you conjure your own background. Let me know if I need to _file_ any important documents. Until tomorrow, please stay and recuperate here. Madame Pomfrey was rather anxious when she got a good look at your injuries."

Hermione was too tired to argue and instead settled down in the stark white cot. She drifted into a fitful sleep, haunted with nightmares from her fight with Dolohov the previous day. Eventually, it morphed into the day she, Harry, and Ron were captured by snatchers.

_Agony. That is all Hermione could remember. A jagged M was carved onto the delicate skin of her arm. The rest of the vile word soon followed. Hermione lay there, trembling and shaking, counting the crystals in the chandelier to try and refocus her mind. Bellatrix was trying to get answers. Answers that Hermione would never, ever give._

_That is when the first round of the cruciatus washed over the girl. She was screaming and hoping that the ornate chandelier would fall and crush her. Any pain, she was certain, would be better than the pain she was in then._

_It was over. Hermione struggled to catch her breath._

"_Crucio."_

_Over and over again, she was assaulted. _

_At some point later in the torturing Bellatrix realized Hermione wasn't going to reveal any information. _

"_Fenrir, Rodulphus, Rabastan!"_

The girl's eyes flew open. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage.

Madame Pomfrey bustled over to her and administered a round of potions to the injured girl.

"The headmaster will be here shortly to collect you. There is clothing for you to change into in the washroom, though do mind the bandages!" the matron instructed kindly.

Hermione thanked the woman, and set off to change, shaking off the memories that were haunting her mind.

Madame Pomfrey was right; Dumbledore collected her only minutes after she had finished getting dressed.

"Perhaps, you may tell me a bit more about this predicament you have found yourself in before we go?" he asked as they walked toward his office.

She nodded her head. "Of course…"

She told him everything then, from the moment she met a boy named, Harry Potter, up to the point of him retrieving her from the Ministry.

He nodded solemnly, his normally cheerful face drooping with sadness. "I see. This mirror you spoke of, do you still have it?"

She nodded her head and pulled it out of her beaded bag, gasping when she saw it. The previously tarnished and dirty surface was glittering in the light of the office. As Hermione gazed into it, she noticed the glass had cleared up as well.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Not what you were expecting, my dear?"

"Not at all," she said, ripping her gaze from the mirror to look at the wizard. "It was impossibly dirty before this. Cleaning charms didn't work, either."

He hummed. "Keep ahold of that mirror, Miss Granger, lest it falls into the wrong hands."

Hermione nodded solemnly and placed the mirror back into her bag.

"We must discuss one more thing before we go, my dear."

Hermione looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm uncertain if we will be able to send you back to your original time…"

Hermione nodded "I'm aware. Even if you could, I'm not sure that I would want to go back. There isn't much waiting for me there…"

The old man nodded kindly. "Have you thought anything about what you are going to do in this time?"

"Well, taking down Voldemort is a given, but beyond that, I haven't considered it much."

"I had assumed as much. I hope you don't mind, but I have taken the liberty of owling a dear friend of mine. He is willing to claim you as his grand-daughter if you are amiable."

Hermione's heart constricted painfully in her chest. "Yes, that would be nice," she agreed.

Dumbledore smiled. "Your grandfather will be pleased to hear that, Miss Dagworth-Granger," he said, winking at her.

Hermione smiled brilliantly at him, glad that she could at least still call herself a Granger.

"Your grandfather wanted you to have this," he said, handing her a letter, as well as a pouch.

Hermione accepted both and opened the letter.

_My dearest granddaughter,_

"_I am so sorry to hear that your parents passed away last month. I'm afraid they ran away while you were still so little, so you don't know me well. The key is yours- vault 673. Be sure to stop by Gringotts sometime this week, and they will go over your assets with you. In addition to the vaults, I hope you will accept the seal of our house. Once you put it on, you will officially be a Dagworth-Granger. I would also love to see my estranged granddaughter in person- please meet me for tea this Friday afternoon at 2:00. You should find that the Headmaster's floo can take you to Dagworth-Granger Manor. Don't forget to take the potion I have sent along with this letter, it should help you._

_Love,_

_Your Grandfather_

_Hector Dagworth-Granger_

Hermione placed the letter inside her beaded bag and opened the pouch that came with her letter. She noted the key, as well as a necklace with the Dagworth-Granger family crest emblazoned upon it. She slipped it over her neck, letting the medallion rest just below her collarbone.

"Professor," she asked, pulling out the potion, "What is this?"

"It is a little something Hector invented many years ago. It will make you a Dagworth-Granger by blood, not just by paper."

Hermione looked at the little potion sceptically. "Is this really necessary?"

"It will cement your presence in this time, more than legal documents will. Besides that, these times are dangerous for muggle-borns, Miss Granger."

He was right, she knew. Battling with herself, she uncorked the potion and dumped its contents down her throat before she could stop herself. Her skin tingled ever so slightly, and she was filled with a warm feeling. When the feelings subsided, a sense of peace washed over her, and a new sensation she couldn't place overcame her.

"You can feel the Dagworth-Granger family magic. It is part of your magical signature, now. With practice, you should be able to detect Hector's magic too," Dumbledore supplied.

Hermione shook her head, "Why have they not made a book about this information?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"I daresay we must be going," he said after a moment and whisked her off to Order's meeting place.

There was a flurry of activity in the small cottage; people were talking left and right, though when she arrived they, conveniently, became quiet and stared at her.

Hermione wasn't too fond of the staring and stepped behind Dumbledore who was calling the meeting to order.

"Friends, if you would please, go to the dining room and find a seat," Dumbledore's merry voice called.

As if by magic, all of the people shuffled toward a new door and disappeared behind it.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

"No," she said smiling crookedly. "But, I haven't felt prepared for anything since Ha-" her face fell flat. _Since Harry died_.

Dumbledore smiled kindly and gestured to the door. "Shall we head in?"

Hermione nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak. She had very nearly revealed sensitive information.

Albus entered the room first, Hermione trailing in behind him.

They all stayed silent as they stared at the girl.

Hermione barely noticed. Sitting mere meters away was a familiar face. _James_, the name came, unbidden, to her. And beside him was Lily and Sirius and Remus. Her eyes slid one more seat over and froze. _The Rat_.

"Friends, this is Miss Dagworth-Granger. She is our newest recruit," Dumbledore said gesturing to Hermione.

She focused her attention back on the group at large. Most of the faces were recognisable, though there was one or two that she only recognised from old pictures of the order.

"Albus!" a gruff voice exclaimed. "You cannot really trust her."

It was Alastor Moody.

"Yes, I do," was his simple reply.

"Just yesterday she was caught committing a high crime. What if she is one of Voldemort's spies?"

The entire table gasped and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the hilarity of the situation. _Her, a spy? For Voldemort?_

The order, who had just been gaping at Moody, turned to look at Hermione and her violent outburst of giggles.

"Sorry," she said, addressing the table at large, wiping tears that had formed at the corners of her eyes. "It is just funny that you said that given our present company."

"Who?" he snarled.

She smirked. "Let me give you a hint."

Hermione didn't know what overcame her, but she suddenly felt vindictive. She had already suffered so much, and now she was going to have to do it all over again, without the help and support of Harry and Ron. Perhaps the strain of the war was causing her to go mad.

"The _rat _is a male. Young too."

"Listen here, girl-"

"No you listen," she retorted angrily. "I have been through much more than any of you can hope to claim. I will _not _have any of you questioning my trustworthiness."

Then, quick as lightning, she disarmed and stunned Peter, who was getting shifty in his seat.

"And you!" she snarled, pushing her wand into his chest. "You little _traitor_! Ratting out your friends to Voldemort! I've never met a more pathetic piece of _shit _in my entire existence."

Instantly James and Sirius were trying to restrain and pull her off of Pettigrew.

"How dare you!" Sirius seethed.

"Let go of me," she deadpanned, every muscle in her body relaxing. "Since it is clear you don't believe me, check his arm."

Remus hesitantly pulled up the sleeve of his friend and paled at the sight that greeted him. Black swirling lines marked the surface of the patchy skin. With wide eyes, he turned to James and Sirius, who let go of Hermione in their shock.

Hermione stunned the snivelling man, sneering at him, as she removed her person from him to face the rest of the order again.

"Why, Pete?" James asked.

"Because he is a coward," Hermione said, much calmer.

Lily looked at her questioningly. "How do you know all of this?"

The woman was pale but tried to remain strong.

Hermione shook her head. "I can't say."

"You can't say?" Sirius asked, shaking in anger. "You just ruined four lives, and you _can't say_? Bullshit."

"I _saved _your lives." Hermione retorted, anger swirling deep within her eyes.

"Mr Black, allow Miss Dagworth-Granger to speak," Dumbledore said placatingly.

He glowered at her but kept quiet.

Hermione shot an appreciative nod toward the old man and turned back to the rest of the Order.

"He needs to be taken into the ministry for questioning," she said, nodding toward the still immobilized Pettigrew.

The Prewett twin nodded and did as she directed, coming back only moments later.

"I am, as Albus said, Hermione Dagworth-Granger. Last night, I was apprehended deep in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. My mission was simple- to retrieve a prophecy that had been spoken mere days before."

"But only the individual who the prophecy is about may do that," a man, Dedalus Diggle, if the old pictures of the Order were anything to go by, said.

Hermione nodded. "Correct."

"And we are supposed to believe that this prophecy is about you? Moody barked, still eyeing her suspiciously.

She shook her head. "Certainly not. I am merely the seer who spoke it."

The room, bar Moody, the Prewett twins, and Dumbledore gasped.

"I thought that seers couldn't ever remember that they spoke a prophecy? Frank Longbottom asked.

She nodded.

"I only know because I was informed by a close friend that I had one. He told me just before we were attacked- a Death Eater overheard me. I-" Hermione said, her voice cracking, thinking of Harry. "I was the only one to survive."

"And what did this prophesy say?" Moody asked.

"Irrelevant," Hermione countered. "It has been taken care of."

"Do you honestly expect us to believe that?" the gruff Auror responded, incredulous.

"I do," Hermione said, unblinkingly. "You all trust Dumbledore, do you not?"

Everyone agreed.

"Well, Dumbledore believes me. If you do really trust him, you will believe me."

"Albus you cannot-" Moody said.

Dumbledore held up a hand to halt the man. "She has spoken the truth, my friend."

Hermione nodded at the old wizard.

"Miss Dagworth-Granger has proven to be a valuable asset already, place your trust in her," Dumbledore said from behind.

The members of the Order reluctantly agreed, some more so than others.

"Excellent," she said, "Our first order of business is to get in contact with Regulus Black."

Sirius's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You've got to be joking- he's a Death Eater," he shouted, jumping out of his chair.

Hermione's eyes pierced his. "I am well aware. Sit. Down."

He quickly complied, after hearing her clipped tone and seeing the dangerous fire that lurked in her eyes.

"Can you reach out to him Sirius?"

He gaped at her. "No?"

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Alright then, I will do so myself."

After a moment she said, "Alastor Moody, I need you to find a way to raid Malfoy Manor."

He looked as though he might argue back for a moment, but just nodded his head instead.

"Excellent. As for the rest of you, stay aware and keep an eye and ear out for information regarding Voldemort."

A wave of gasps filled the room, which she chose to ignore."

"And remember," she said staring at Moody, "Constant Vigilance!"

The Prewett twins couldn't help but laugh, while the rest of the members gawked at her. She cracked a small smile at the twins.

Dumbledore stepped forward, "That is all for tonight, you may all leave."

Hermione watched as the members slowly filtered out of the room and toward the floo.

"Miss Dagworth-Granger, I am afraid I cannot take you back to Hogwarts, but I have a place for you to stay until you can work something else out."

Hermione nodded her head, "Of course, thank you for the help last night."

The man smiled at her and gestured for a certain set of redheads to come closer. "Fabian, Gideon, I'm sure your mother has told you?"

"Yes, sir," the one on the right confirmed.

"Wonderful, I shall leave Miss Dagworth-Granger in your care, then." He said, waving goodbye. "Oh, and dear, if you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out to me."

Hermione nodded and allowed the twins to sandwich her to the floo.

"So, Miss Dagworth-Granger," the twin on her left said

"That's a bit of a mouthful, eh?" the other finished.

"Mind if we call you something else?"

"Perhaps Miss Dagworth?"

"Miss Granger tickle your fancy at all?"

She giggled. They reminded her so much of Fred and George. A flash of sadness washed over her but was replaced by a wave of determination. _She was going to save them- no matter what_.

"Hermione will do."

"Oi, that's not much better, now is it?" the man on her right said, poking her arm.

"A nickname is in order, brother of mine." the other said, nodding his head in agreement.

Hermione hit both of their arms lightly. "I've changed my mind, you can both call me Miss Dagworth-Granger."

"You can't change your mind just like that! Give us blokes a little leeway, yeah?" they both said.

Hermione laughed then. Perhaps this time wasn't going to be so bad after all.

* * *

Hello all,

This is a story that I have had in my head for awhile and finally decided to put to paper! I hope you all have enjoyed it so far!

Sincerely,

Miss of the Manor


End file.
